


there’s a me without you, but that’s not where i belong

by skyekingsleigh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Magic, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Triwizard Tournament, goblet of fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 15:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyekingsleigh/pseuds/skyekingsleigh
Summary: Hermione Granger had loved magic until it took the one person she was in love with.





	there’s a me without you, but that’s not where i belong

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the goblet of fire but i was too lazy to check the facts so this is kind of a hybrid of canon and au lol. also, i miss this pairing. unbeta’d.
> 
> Title is from the song “The wreck of our hearts” by Sleeping Wolf. Absolutely beautiful so you should find the time and listen to it.

Hermione Granger was seven years old when she first witnessed magic. It was performed by one of those strange-looking lads at kiddie parties, wearing a long hat, gloves, coat and the like with an equally strange girl for an assistant. He was pulling rabbits out of his hat, sawing his assistant in half, changing water to wine, letting doves fly out of his coat, but it was when he had handed her a flower made out of balloon that she decided that magic was associated with happiness. After all, the magician handed her the flower balloon, her, not just any other kid in the crowd. And it made her annoyingly happy.

Of course, she had been showing odd signs of magic herself ever since she was four, but her parents never mentioned them to her. It was little things like changing the channel on the television, or closing the door and opening her windows when it’s snowing out; nothing that can’t be blamed with the harsh wind outside or even ghost stories. It was only when she made her crib spin and toys float around her (causing her poor mum to faint) that her parents finally acknowledged that something was very wrong. And when she finally got her first Hogwarts letter when she was just a few weeks short of turning 12, everything had made sense.

But even in Hogwarts, Hermione never really let the image of the fake magician and his assistant out of her mind. The way they make children happy for a living, the way one flower balloon made such an impact on said children. That’s why despite the trolls and giant snakes and werewolves and dementors and you-know-who, she still associates magic with happiness. 

That association only intensified when she was 15 and she met Cedric Diggory.

He was annoying, was Hermione’s first impression of him. She had been wrestling with a particularly stubborn book and Merlin knows her hair was sticking up in places she hadn’t thought possible when he dared walked into the aisle she was in and laughed at her. Laughed at her, as if they were the closest friends. He threw his head back, shut his eyes, clutched his stomach and laughed. And Hermione had growled at him, causing another fit of laughter before he sobered up and with a flick of his wand, caused the stubborn book to tame. 

He was beautiful, had been her second thought, but she quickly brushed it out of her head with a faint blush and proceeded to huff at the sight of the seemingly innocent book laid open in the table in front of her. 

“Funnily enough, I’ve encountered the very same herbology book once in third year. Let’s just say I looked like I’ve just had the snog of a lifetime after I figured out how to tame it,” he commented slyly before clearing his throat. “I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory.”

She had narrowed her eyes at him briefly before chuckling despite herself.

Cedric cannot be any more different than the usual company Hermione has. For one, he was not a Weasley (which seemed to be a sort of requirement to be friends with her, these days), he was from Hufflepuff, a sixth year and is 17. Even the twins haven’t turned seventeen yet, and so Cedric Diggory officially became Hermione’s oldest friend. He was also incredibly smart, and often times can match her wits. Their conversations start from the most normal things and go to heavy, difficult for most and random topics that more often than not get them odd looks from listening parties. It came to a point where Cedric is just a part of Hermione’s normal, everyday routine. Her days won’t be complete without the sixth year prefect, even if he did tease her a lot about giving her detention when she’s being particularly cranky.

“Oi, Hermione!” She recalled Ron calling out a few weeks into her friendship with the Hufflepuff. “Are you going out with pretty boy?”

She had frowned then, confused, before responding. “Who?”

“Pretty boy, Diggory?”

“Honestly, Ronald,” she rolled her eyes. “Cedric and I are friends.”

Ron’s eyebrow creased and he dropped the subject, but not before saying, “Well you’d be pleased to know that your ‘friend’ had just finished putting his name in the goblet of fire.”

Needless to say, Cedric had suffered a weeklong silent treatment for that, and another week for being picked as a champion. 

“You _knew_ you would get picked!” She had accused him when he finally got her to talk outside the great hall. “You knew and you still did it!”

Cedric gaped at her, wincing at her harsh tone. “How could I possibly know? Come on, Hermione–”

“Do you and Harry plan to have me die of worry and stress at 15?! Merlin, do you have any idea how dangerous this tournament will be?!”

“Dumbledore would never risk—“

Frustrated and trying to control her tears threatening to spill, Hermione pushed at Cedric’s chest when the older boy had tried to move closer. “People have died in this tournament, Cedric! Dead! Gone! What would I do if you—“

Hermione really ought to finish her sentence, honestly, but Cedric had flicked his wand and an invisible force pulled her into him, her yell being swallowed as he kissed her soundly, so that proved to be quite difficult.

“I promise to be careful, Granger. You worry too much,” She remember muttering something back but it wasn’t long before he pulled her in for another kiss, and yes, magic really was associated with happiness, because at that moment, Hermione had never felt happier.

She could swear that she had developed permanent lines on her face with how much she worried for her two boys, but Cedric made sure to distract her and Harry made sure to always let him (and occasionally drag Ron away because honestly, that boy is too immature and insensitive for his own good).

“Who sent it?” Hermione remembered how Cedric had bursted inside the hospital wing, robes flying out behind him dramatically in a way that had resembled Professor Snape, and had it not been for the pain she felt in her blister covered hand she would have laughed and teased him for it. 

His normally light grey eyes had a darkness to them that was both unfamiliar and dangerous, making Hermione frown. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!” He had been practically shaking with anger as he situated himself beside her in her bed. “Let me see.”

He took her wrapped hands carefully in his, inspecting the damage it had seemed, before sighing and closing his eyes tightly. “I swear I’m going to kill whoever sent this. I don’t care if I go to Azkaban.”

“Ced, you’re overreacting,” Hermione had pointed out, leaning her head forward to rest her forehead against his. “It’ll be fine. Nothing deadly.”

“I just hate that this happened,” he murmured, already calming down. 

She kissed him, chastely before burrowing her head in his neck. “I know.”

“Can I at least hex them?”

“No.”

Though not really being public and open about their relationship, being friends with Hogwarts’ golden boy on top of being Harry Potter’s best friend (not to mention how Viktor Krum had taken to sit on her table in the library the past days) had earned Hermione quite a few hate mails. It turns out one trip to the hospital wing was quite enough for her boyfriend, though, and so when Cedric snogged her senseless after retrieving her from the black lake during the second task confirming all speculations, despite the gasps from the crowd and the cold, Hermione really could care less except for snogging him right back.

“It’s your final year next term,” She once pointed out while they were walking in a random corridor near the kitchens. They had their hands clasped tightly, swaying as they walked. Despite the warm May weather, Hermione found that she still rather liked feeling Cedric’s warmth against hers, and so she let go of his hands in favour of pressing against him in a side hug as they walked. 

“Indeed,” He confirmed nonchalantly. “What about it?”

Hermione frowned for a moment before sighing deeply. “I still have three years to go, and two without you here.”

“Hey,” they halted in the middle, Cedric gripping her by the shoulders and touching the side of her face lightly. “I’ll have none of that frown, Granger. We still have a year to go. And even when I _do_ graduate, that wouldn’t change a thing. I’ll still be bewitched by you, Granger.”

She slaps at his chest playfully. “Don’t use that word! There’s enough rumours of me brewing love potions as it is!”

“Well, you did!” Cedric laughed at her pout, unable to help himself from pressing a kiss on her temple. “You bewitched me, Granger. I am completely besotted with you.”

Hermione finally allowed herself to laugh. “I love magic, then, if it brought me to you.”

“And I love you,” The Badger grinned, and before he knew it the Lioness had jumped into his arms, making him stumble back. 

And yes, Hermione Granger does love magic, but she’s certain she loves Cedric Diggory more. 

Which is why the Gryffindor witch remembered the 24th of June quite vividly. 

“Are you nervous?” She had asked the morning of the third task once they had finished up eating breakfast, grasping one of Cedric’s unusually cold hands. 

He quirked an eyebrow before retorting, “Are you?”

“I’m bloody terrified,” She blurted out the truth and tightened her grip on his. “For Harry, for you. If I stop, even just for a _second_ , to think about it, I’ll go mad with worry.”

Cedric had stared at her for a few seconds before sighing shakily. “Hey, I’m scared too.”

Looking back, Hermione knows that she should have known Cedric would be afraid. He was an open book to her, so easy to read and reread and read again, as the Hufflepuff had never really been good at hiding something from her. Their relationship was built on their candidness whenever together. Hermione should have known, but his next words surprised her nonetheless.

“I’m scared,” Cedric repeated, one hand reaching up to play with her wild curls. “I’m scared that I won’t get to return, to _you._ ”

Hermione crumbled right then and there. “Please, _please_ don’t say that,” she had managed to croak out before hiding her tears in his embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back to me, Cedric. Promise me.”

“I wish I could do that, Granger,” he laughs but there was no trace of amusement in his eyes. “The truth is the tournament is dangerous and I can’t promise you something I’m not sure I can do.”

“Ced—“

“But,” he continued, pulling away to look her in the eyes, grey to brown. “You can be bloody sure I’d die trying.”

Ever since Hermione Granger was seven years old, she had associated magic with happiness. She had carried this belief with her throughout her four years in Hogwarts, despite the trolls and the giant snakes and werewolves and dementors and Voldemort. She had carried this belief until Harry Potter came back from the maze sobbing and clutching the still figure of the love of her life.

“Cedric,” she remembered crying out, shouting, sounding like a mad woman as she pushed her way against the crowd and onto the field, where Harry was hugging Cedric’s body and refusing to let go. She halted in front, and for the first time her mind couldn’t process the scene in front of her. “No. _No!_ ”

Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice just as she dropped down to her knees, finally letting sobs wrack through her small body. She could hear Mr. Diggory shouting but everything became silent and blurred as her eyes focused on Cedric’s face, the face she had kissed everyday for the last seven months, pale and still and grey eyes open. 

She let out another heart-wrenching cry before burying her face in his neck, but this time instead of his usual warmth and scent, she was met with coldness and the smell of grass and mud and blood and sweat and unlike her Cedric at all. 

“Please, please, please...” she had whispered to him, as if pleading could bring him back, as if he could hear her. “You promised.”

“Hermione—“

“He promised, Harry!” She yelled, hastily wiping at her face in an attempt to control the dam that had been set but it kept flowing, flowing, flowing. “He promised he’ll do his best to come back to me.”

Harry had looked broken, and he was crying as well. Cedric had been his friend, after all. 

“I love him,” she cries as she was pulled away from his body, almost whines as if those words would solve everything, as if those words could bring him back. She couldn’t find enough strength to struggle. “Harry, _I love him._ ”

“I know.”

When she woke up, she was back in the Hospital wing. Harry, in all his wounded glory, sat beside her bed, Ron on the other side. For a moment she looked for grey eyes, before her memory cleared enough to remember and she was crying again. She couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t she stop crying? “What, what happened? How...?” 

“Voldemort, he... he told Pettigrew to kill the spare,” Harry had croaked out, taking off his glasses go wipe at his eyes. “Cedric was... Cedric wasn’t supposed to be there. It should have just been me, ‘Mione. It’s my fault.”

Ron couldn’t meet their eyes.

“I told him to get to the cup,” He suddenly sounded frustrated. “But Ced, he didn’t listen. He was too kind to leave behind a fourteen year old in a random graveyard.”

Hermione had never felt that much weight in her chest before. It had hurt all over, still does, and it was as if she had been dying. “How?”

Harry understood her question, letting out a bitter and cold laugh that startled both Hermione and Ron.

“One curse,” He grounded out, face angry and lost at the same time. “One bloody curse and it was all over. The strongest and smartest seventeen year old wizard I know, dead.”

Hermione flinched at the word before collapsing into sobs once again. “It hurts.” 

Ron and Harry came instantly towards her, sandwiching her in hugs but she had her face covered by her hands. “I can’t—it hurts! I love him!”

“Hermio—“

“He left me!” She cried out. “It hurts too much. I can’t— I feel like— it’s like I’m going to die.”

Ron finally found the courage to speak up. “It’s going to be alright, Hermione.”

“It’s not,” she was in hysterics, shaking her head violently. “He promised! He promised me he’ll return to me!”

Harry suddenly frowned. He shifted so he could get ahold of her hands and look her in the eyes. “Listen, during the Priori Incantatem, Cedric was there.”

“What?”

“He was there,” Harry’s voice shook. “He told me.”

_“Bring my body back, will you? Bring me back to Hermione. I made a promise.”_

The bright witch had let out a sound so full of pain as she leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. “You see, Hermione, he did come back. He did what he promised. He loves you that much.”

“Yeah, Cedric doesn’t strike me as one to break his promises.” Ron said sheepishly, making Hermione laugh through pained tears.

“I don’t know how I’ll get pass this,” she manages to say through her tears. “He’s my everything. I can’t...”

“You’re Hermione bloody Granger, you can do just about everything, I believe.” Ron had told her, and if she had heard Cedric’s voice instead of his, no one would ever know.

_“I love magic, then, if it brought me to you.”_

_“And I love you,”_

It’s safe to say Hermione has hated magic since then.

-


End file.
